


Stolen Moments

by AceSparkleGirl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Napping, Talking, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 23:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15896535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceSparkleGirl/pseuds/AceSparkleGirl
Summary: The sun's not even up when Lance finds himself shuffling through the empty halls of the hospital. Sitting down is too boring, and sleep doesn't come easy when you're surrounded in sterile white with the sound of monitors drilling into your head like it's some sort of fucked up mantra. The next best thing, obviously, is to break into someone else's hospital room, just to see what's up.





	Stolen Moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ukhoshekh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukhoshekh/gifts).



> I wrote this post-season 7 fic because I had the idea and was encouraged to do it, it's what they deserve, and what we aren't going to get. I have to become the change I want to see in the world.

For some reason, none of them assumed that getting back to Earth was going to be a hassle. A long trip, maybe, but there was no way that they could calculate the catastrophe that went down. The sound of clashing metal is still fresh in Lance's ears even after days, and the pressure of water around him, around Red, is something that he can't even begin to shake. Getting home was supposed to be freeing— it was supposed to feel like a weight was lifted off of all of their chests. It was supposed to be home-cooked meals and time catching up on lost years, but instead he may as well go figure that it's being spent being poked and prodded while sitting in a hospital bed.

 

After all, what's worked out for them in the last few years, anyway? 

 

The sun's not even up when Lance finds himself shuffling through the empty halls of the hospital. Sitting down is too boring, and sleep doesn't come easy when you're surrounded in sterile white with the sound of monitors drilling into your head like it's some sort of fucked up mantra. The next best thing, obviously, is to break into someone else's hospital room, just to see what's up. Maybe someone is awake— someone absolutely has to be awake, too. They're all used to weird space schedules by now, right? It can't be far-fetched to assume that someone else  _ has  _ to be awake. 

 

The first room he peeks into is Hunk’s. There are a nice few bouquets of flowers on the bedside table, but judging by the sound of snoring, it doesn't take Lance longer than a second to register that he's out like a light.  _ At least someone can get some sleep _ . There are blankets on top of him that aren't stark white like the others, which can only mean that they were brought from home. He sighs, scrubbing at his eyes before he slips out of the room, pulling the door silently shut behind him. It was bold of him to think that he wouldn't be sleeping. 

 

The next room over belongs to Pidge. “Katie Holt” is scrawled on a little card on the door, and it's funny for a moment as he realizes just how much her nickname’s grown on all of them. As Lance pushes the door open, the soft drone of the television almost has him convinced that she's awake, but it's just as quickly brought to his attention that she's not when he looks to the bed. Somehow in the hospital, she looks smaller than ever, and his chest hurts to think about the fact of how ready she was to go out in the final stretch of things. How ready they all were. He finds himself holding a breath he didn't realize was caught in his throat, and he shakes his head before he closes the door behind him. Can't have himself thinking like that now. It's not helping anything. 

 

As he continues down the hall, his eyes flicker to Allura’s room. Something almost holds him back from checking in, but he does. He takes a breath in and pushes the door open. It's the only one that creaks, and her room is the only one that isn't empty save for her. The mice are curled up on her pillow beside her head, and Lance almost laughs. Loyalty like that sure is something. Really, he's almost surprised not to find Coran or Romelle waiting around here somewhere. They all need rest, he supposes, but he can't pinpoint why everyone being asleep right now is rubbing him so wrong. He spares another glance to Allura— who even looks like royalty when she's sleeping in a hospital— before he slips out. 

 

The last room in this stretch of the wing belongs to Keith, and it's something that Lance knows too familiarly as his fingers curl around the handle. Things haven't felt right lately— they're off, somehow, and he can't stand it. A deep breath slips past his lips as he turns the knob and pushes the door in. Before he can take more than a step forward, his gaze flickers up. 

 

The last thing he's expecting is for Keith to be staring right back at him. 

 

“What are you doing in here?” 

 

Busted. 

 

“I couldn't sleep?” he tries, glancing aside before his eyes flicker back to Keith. He looks tired. He's sure he himself doesn't look much better. 

 

“So?” 

 

“So I was checking on everyone. Sue me.” Lance pauses before he steps in completely, tugging the door shut behind him. If they're going to talk, it might as well be in peace. 

 

Keith just groans in response, head tilting back against the mountain of pillows behind him. Or, one pillow. The bed is inclined, which isn't something that Lance notices until he's sitting down in the chair by his bedside. He doesn't know what he expected out of this, but he's almost certain that there's a part of his mind that has him convinced that he wanted Keith to be awake. 

 

“Why’re you sitting down?” Keith raises an eyebrow, eyes trained on his face. “Checking in doesn't mean you have to sit down.” Lance just blinks back, kind of snorting at him as he relaxes, leaning forward in the chair to press his elbows into the cheap hospital mattress. 

 

“I guess not, but your face just seemed  _ so _ inviting, I thought maybe you could use some company,” Lance quips back, his chin taking a place in his open palm. Keith rolls his eyes, going to push at Lance's elbow. He lets out an almost-laugh in response, balance wavering before he just grins, eyebrow quirking at him.

 

“Fuck off,” he mumbles back, though Lance is positive there's almost a smile on his face. Gettin’ there. He grins wide, playfully nudging Keith's arm back before he just sighs. 

 

“Sure, man, whatever.” He watches him for a moment, pausing for long enough for the silence to feel deafening. “...How's your head?” 

 

Keith breaks his view from the ceiling to look up towards Lance again, something of confusion on his expression before he shrugs. “Hurts like a bitch, if you're asking for real.”

 

“I wouldn't have asked if I didn't care,” Lance shoots back. “That sucks, though. For real. I'm sorry.” 

 

“It's fine.” Keith shrugs, glancing down. “Could be worse.”

 

“Could be dead, right?” 

 

Keith's eyes shoot up at him, eyes narrowing. “Dude.” 

 

Well, shit. Lance sort of shrinks back, forcing a smile. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say. Oh well, it's already been said. He just kind of laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he murmurs. 

 

Keith doesn't make a move to speak for a long moment  before he just sighs, shaking his head slowly. “How's  _ your _ head, Lance?” 

 

Lance's head snaps up, blinking at him with wide eyes. “What? I didn't really hit my head, man, I'm good!” The look that Keith is giving him tells him without words that that isn't what he meant, and Lance's shoulders fall. 

 

“I mean what the fuck are you thinking right now? That ain't your every day morning talk,” Keith mumbles. 

 

“Oh.” Well. “A lot?”

 

“I mean, obviously.” Keith snorts, but it isn't playful in tone. It's tired and forced and Lance can't help but immediately wonder if Keith had been getting as much sleep as he has— that is to say, none at all. 

 

“It's a lot of hypotheticals, Keith, it doesn't matter,” Lance murmurs back, and it's almost defensive. But Keith's not having it. 

 

“It obviously matters enough that it's got you saying some janky shit at the asscrack of dawn, Lance, what's going on?”

 

“I told you it's nothing, man, lay off, would you?” Lance mumbles, averting his gaze before he shifts, almost debating whether or not to get up. This isn't going anywhere, and there's no point in starting a fight over nothing. Especially not over this, and certainly not right now. But before he can stand, there's a hand around his wrist, and there's another up on his face, gently holding onto his chin. Lance's eyes flicker back up, focusing immediately on the particularly concerned face of his teammate. 

 

“Talk. To. Me.”

 

Lance freezes. He's not sure what to say now, and he's being stared down, and the way that Keith's fingers twitch against his wrist tip him off to the fact that he doesn't plan on letting go of him until he spills. He doesn't speak for another moment before he wets his lips, and subsequently presses them together. 

 

“I'm scared, dude.” There's something of recognition that crosses over Keith’s face before Lance feels the grip loosen on his face and his wrist. Keith just nods, and Lance takes it as a cue to go on, as much as he'd rather go back to suppressing everything that Keith wants to hear. “We did it, we saved—  _ Earth _ , I guess, but it's— I'm  _ scared _ .”

 

“It's a lot of heavy stuff to deal with.”

 

“Uh,  _ yeah _ , no shit,” Lance mumbles back, eyes locked with Keith's. He doesn't make a move to break the eye contact, and therefore neither does Lance. “We're still kids, Keith. We should be in school, but instead we're sitting in a hospital because we just  _ essentially _ survived a god damn suicide mission and I don't know how I'm supposed to be  _ okay _ with that.”

 

“No one ever said you had to be,” Keith murmurs, and Lance feels his thumb brush over his jawline. Something about his touch feels so soft right now, and he can't help but wonder if bed rest has been making the calluses on his fingers fade. 

 

“Yeah, maybe no one’s said that, Keith, but everyone's implying it,” he whispers. “We're, like, heros or something. We're expected to be proud of ourselves. Because we did it, we saved the world,  _ whatever,  _ but we nearly kicked the bucket doing it. We saved the world, and we almost died. I almost died  _ again _ .” 

 

The last fragment of a sentence slips out before he can stop it, and he realizes his mistake as he watches Keith's expression fall, and twist. 

 

“ _ What? _ ”

 

“Forget it.” 

 

“No—  _ what _ ? Lance, what the fuck are you talking about?”

 

“I said forget it, Keith,” Lance spits back, going to jerk his head away from Keith's hold. It works, for a moment, and he almost notices hurt flicker across Keith's face before he watches him shake his head. 

 

“I can't just forget you saying that, McClain, what the hell are you talking about? What did you  _ do _ ?” 

 

There's desperacy in Keith's voice that Lance can't seem to justify, but he finds his chest in knots with the way that he's being looked at. No one knows. Allura knows. He knows. No one else  _ knows _ — and if they do, they don't talk about it, so why should he? He tries to look away, eyes attempting to catch on something, anything interesting, some sort of conversation starter to pull them away from the one he's landed himself in. 

 

It's to no avail. 

 

It's barely another second before Keith's hands are coming up again, and it's both of them on his face now. Lance freezes, looking to him as his breath lifts. “Cut it out. What are you doing? You're not gonna get— I'm not— “

 

“I just want you to talk to me.” 

 

Lance's shoulders fall quickly, looking to Keith with wide eyes. “I don't—”

 

“...You came in here to talk to me, so  _ talk to me _ , Lance.”

 

“You can't just make everything sound better because you're our  _ leader _ !”

 

“And you can't just sit there and act tough all the time. What happened, Lance, for the love of—”

 

“I  _ died _ , okay?!” Lance squeezes his eyes shut. “I don't know what— you weren't  _ here _ . You were with the Blade, doing your own things, and that's fine.”

 

“What do you mean, you died? You're right here, you're talking to me.” Keith's thumbs run across Lance’s jaw again, and this time he doesn't flinch. 

 

“I don't know! I don't  _ know _ , okay? I was just— alive, and then I wasn't, and then I  _ was _ , and Allura was there. I don't know what she did. I don't know how she did it. But she did, and—”

 

“Like the thing she pulled on Shiro?” 

 

Lance's stomach turns before he nods, gaze flickering down. “Mmhm. Close enough, I think.” 

 

“...Dude,” Keith whispers, and Lance looks back up. He's maintaining eye contact again, and Lance's stomach flips. 

 

“I'm sorry,” he says softly, squeezing his eyes shut. “No one talked about it. Allura never brought it up again, so I just—” 

 

Lance cuts off as Keith's hands fall from his face, and he's ready to scramble away, but then there are arms being wrapped tightly around him. He freezes up for a moment, arms almost suspended in thin air as if they were being held up by marionette strings. It doesn't come anywhere close to clicking that he's being hugged until he feels a hand in his hair, and the strings are cut. He carefully lowers his arms to loop around Keith in response, chin falling to rest against his shoulder. 

 

“You're important to this team, Lance.” The words take him off guard. Especially right now. He just nods in response, though, letting his eyes fall shut. It's not until then that he realizes the tears in his eyes, or the tightness in his throat, and his fingers curl into Keith's shirt before his face ducks down to his shoulder. “You're important to  _ me _ .” 

 

That almost seems like too much. He didn't come here to do this, not exactly, and it suddenly absolutely feels like a mistake. Lance's breath hitches and he tries to break away, shaking his head. 

 

“Du- _ ude _ , I'm fine, you don't have to—” His voice catches a little, raising in the worst way as he tries to pull back. “I get it. I  _ get _ it, you don't have to tell me—”

 

“Are you crying?”

 

“What?” Lance tries to pull back again, shoulder ramming up against Keith's arm. He's stronger than he looks, and Lance is convinced that it has to be on account of the Blade training. It must be. He definitely wasn't always like this. He pulls an arm up to scrub at his face a little, head tilted down again. “No.” 

 

He's certain that he's got Keith fooled before his hands come up again, wiping at tears that are still rolling down his cheeks. It makes Lance's heart jump, but as he goes to pull away, Keith speaks again. 

 

“Yeah, you are. You literally are right now, Lance, you don't have to pretend you aren't, because you are.” A spared glance up reveals confusion laced through Keith's expression, and Lance shakes his head. 

 

“I have to go,” he tries, hand moving to scrub at his face. “I should probably ta-ake a nap? Get some sleep, right?” He takes in a shaky breath before he shifts to get up, and his stomach sinks when Keith’s fingers once again curl around his wrist. He feels himself shaking, but he doesn't move from the edge of his seat. 

 

“...I need some sleep, too, man. Wanna stick around?” 

 

Lance's shoulders hunch up a little, drawing in a sharp breath. “Keith—” 

 

“ _ Lance _ ,” Keith shoots back, successfully cutting him off, because Lance doesn't know what to do, let alone say. He just sits there like a deer in the headlights, staring at Keith. He watches him mull the words over in his head, and effort is visible on his face as he pieces together what to say. Lance just remains quiet. “I know what you're doing.”

 

“Sitting in your hospital room?” Lance fires back, a hand coming up to wipe at his eyes again. “Seriously, man, it'd be best to let me just—”

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“ _ No _ ! I know— you're trying to block people  _ out _ . And I get that, because I've been there.”

 

“Where the hell are you picking that up?” Lance's nose wrinkles up, taking in a slow breath. “I'm the one who came in here.” 

 

“You didn't come in here to talk, though, right? You had no idea if I'd even be awake.” 

 

“I mean, maybe not, but I still came  _ in _ here. I checked on everyone, and you were still up, so I just… I came in?”

 

Lance watches as something of realization dawns on Keith's face. “You were looking to talk.” 

 

“I wasn't— Come on, Keith.”

 

“Did you  _ want _ me to be awake?” 

 

“No!” Lance shoots back, immediately shrinking back into himself. “No— God, shit, I just mean… I wasn't specifically looking to…”

 

“...It's okay if you came in here to talk,” Keith mumbles. “You wanna talk, let's talk.”

 

Lance watches Keith fold his legs, and he just shakes his head, gently nudging his knee. “...Move over.”

 

“What?” Keith sits up straighter, eyebrows furrowing despite the fact that he does, in fact, scoot over to leave more room on the bed. 

 

“I said move over, Lance mumbles under his breath, standing from the chair only long enough to climb onto the hospital bed beside Keith. The mattress squeaks under the shift of weight, and Lance raises a hand to scrub at his eyes again. “You said to stick around.” 

 

Keith looks confused again before an almost amused smile finds his lips, and he hums. “Right. I asked if you want to.”

 

“...So I want to, then,” Lance whispers, hesitant before he goes to carefully loop an arm behind Keith. Might as well. He sniffles, letting out a laugh that feels marginally more uncomfortable than he wants it to. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

 

“Maybe.”

  
Lance closes his eyes, letting out a sigh as he sinks back into the mattress. It creaks again, as if it’s struggling under the weight of the two of them, even though neither one of them are much to handle in the first place. Keith snakes an arm around him in response. The touch takes him off guard, but he doesn’t make any attempt to debate it, or move away. He just relaxes. It falls quiet after that, with Lance trying to get comfortable on the poor excuse for a bed, and Keith’s hand having wound up in his hair at some point. He hadn’t even realized, and by this point, he’s leaning too much into it to pull away. There’s no point in causing a scene over something that he’s admittedly enjoying. Instead, he lets his head loll over onto Keith’s shoulder, yawning.

 

“What’re you trying to pull, Mullet?” he whispers, hand falling to Keith’s waist.

 

“Nothing,” is Keith’s response, and it sounds like he’s underwater and ten feet away, despite the fact that he’s right beside him. Lance hums, breathing slowing down as he finds himself drifting off. “Get some sleep.” Keith's fingers curl loosely into Lance's hair, gently coaxing him to turn his head against his shoulder more, and he hums again as he finally slips away.

  
***

 

No longer than two hours had passed before Keith was watching the sun rise, Lance having sort of curled up into his side. It’s a comfortable position— certainly one that Keith could get used to, given better circumstance. All things considered, the silence is a pleasant one, and Lance… Well. Lance is warm, and Keith is absolutely thriving on it. There’s a smile on his lips as he rakes his fingers again through the other boy’s hair. It’s gotten shaggier over the past few weeks, and while he’s sure he’s not one to talk, it almost looks silly. He pauses slightly as he feels Lance shift, and he hears a little noise slips past his lips.

 

It’s  _ cute,  _ and Keith feels his heart flutter. 

 

It’s not much more than a few minutes later, though, that he hears the doorknob jiggle.

 

“Just a tick—” he tries, but then the door flies open, revealing none other than Pidge to be standing behind it.

 

“Second,” she corrects him, raising an eyebrow before he watches her gaze flicker from him to Lance. “ _ Second person _ ,” she adds slowly, and Keith watches as her lips curl up into a sly grin. 

 

“Yes, Pidge, thank you.”   
  


“Is that  _ Lance _ ? That is absolutely Lance,” she urges, snickering as she reaches a hand up to rub sleep from her eyes. Something tells Keith that this is her first kick of the day, and he just groans, hushing her.

 

“I just got him to clock out, Pidge, shhh,” he tries, not bothering to pull his hand from Lance’s hair. He’s been caught now, there’s no point. He’d be lucky if there weren’t already pictures printed out, knowing Pidge. But she just grins.

 

“What, has he been here for long?” she teases. “Hours, even?” She pretends to swoon, hands coming up beside her face as she bats her eyes. “How sweet, you’re holding him so close to your heart.”

 

Despite knowing fully well that she’s trying to get a rouse out of him, Keith feels his face heat up. He just rolls his eyes, though, brushing again through Lance’s hair. “You’re full of it,” he muses.

 

“As if!” Pidge grins, laughing to herself. Though, it’s more of a cackle. “...Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

 

“Sure, sure.” Keith huffs, adjusting himself on the bed before he looks to Pidge again. “...Is something going on?”

 

“Oh, yeah.” Pidge’s smirk fades, replaced with a relaxed expression quicker than Keith would have expected. She raises a hand to her mouth idly, chewing at her thumbnail as she watches him. “Shiro’s visiting today. We were all gonna meet in Hunk’s room. You game?” 

 

Keith blinks, eyes trained on her for a moment. That’s right. “...I’ll— We’ll be right there.”

 

“‘Kay,” Pidge muses, nail only parting from her lips for a moment. It’s then that Keith realizes that she actually looks like she’s been getting rest, which is good. “Well.  _ We’ll _ be waiting. Tell lover boy to leave a note next time he leaves his room empty.”

 

Keith tries not to let that one get to him. He fails. His face flushes again, just snorting before he waves her off, and Pidge waves in response, snickering as she pulls the door shut behind her, leaving Keith once again alone with Lance sleeping on him. Go figure that they can’t have much of a moment alone by the time that day rolls around. Not when everyone’s awake. Not when there’s expectations.

 

The thought passes that he might as well wake him up, and he shifts, sighing softly as he leans down to press a lazy kiss to the top of his head. It’s evidently enough to stir him— Keith’s not sure how conversation wasn't, but something so gentle was. He tries not to question it. He just returns the gaze when Lance looks up at him, blinking blearily past a ray of sun shining in his face, and Keith smiles.

 

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please just don't look at me I've brought dishonor to my family. As usual, you can spot me on my tumblr [@Tearezicryope](http://tearezicryrope.tumblr.com).


End file.
